


The Future that Haunts

by Akaisha_Loire



Series: The Future that Haunts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Extra Powers, Gen, Premonitions, Seer, Slytherin!Harry, decisions made by an 11 year old, future sight, future!Drarry?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaisha_Loire/pseuds/Akaisha_Loire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry James Potter was born with a gift, a gift he has no explanation for. Ever since he could remember touching people or objects made him see things; things he could only explain as being the future. Upon entering Hogwarts, the visions are even more terrifying than anything he could ever dream up, and there’s only one thing he can do; change the future to stop the visions from coming true.</p><p>ABANDONED (for now) I might finish and pick this up later. Post it when i complete it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: The Future that Haunts  
Rating: PG  
Pairings: None  
Warnings: Slytherin!Harry  
Summary: Harry James Potter was born with a gift, a gift he has no explanation for. Ever since he could remember touching people or objects made him see things; things he could only explain as being the future. Upon entering Hogwarts, the visions are even more terrifying than anything he could ever dream up, and there’s only one thing he can do; change the future to stop the visions from coming true.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and some lines belong to JK Rowling. I do not own them.

The Future That Haunts

People were born with quirks, it was just the law of nature, it seemed and for ten year old Harry Potter it seemed to be far more different then most. He couldn’t explain it if asked, but he could try, though no one ever asked. No, no one paid attention to the smallest member of Number 4 Privet Drive, nor did anyone know he existed. But he very much did, and it seemed he lived to make his family’s lives miserable. Not by choice, of course, he had tried to explain to them his odd predicament since he was five, the first time it had happened.

He had stood on the playground in pants much to baggy for him and a shirt that drowned him. The children around him played tagged, rather not wanting him to play less than incur his cousin’s wrath. His cousin was the largest boy on the playground and threatened many of the children with sand eating if they so much as invited Harry to go down the slide. He was awkward enough without his cousin bearing down on him and he had simply been waiting for a turn on the swing when the first incident had happened. One minute he was staring at the swing, the next moment his vision blurred and had gone black and white. He saw himself swinging, until his cousin came over and grabbed the swing, making him fall to the ground and spraining his wrist. It was a quick moment, and when he blinked it was gone but it made him second guess getting on the swing. Instead he allowed his cousin to push him aside and clamber onto the swing, his thick little fingers wrapping around the chains. When the boy ended up falling after swinging to high--trying to go over the bar, no doubt--Harry was blamed, saying he had let the boy fall.

The incidents continued over and over after that. His vision would blur, and he’d see his uncle’s meaty fist coming at his head before he would move aside and the man would slam his fist into the wall or his aunt’s favorite vase. He was punished for all incidents when this occurred.

Harry wasn’t well liked by his relatives; the Dursleys, as they were called. They were a portly family, at least the son and his father, while the woman of the house was thin and gangly with a much to pointed nose. The eldest of the lot was a man called Vernon, who sold drills at a company call Grunnings and was quite proud in his work. His wife, Petunia, was a housewife, whose thrill in life was gossiping and listening to woes of the ‘less fortunate’, as she called them. Her recent conquest was the resident at 8 Privet Drive and their daughter who left for a boarding school for troubled youths. The largest member was a boy called Dudley and was Petunia’s and Vernon’s only child and the pride of their hearts. Dudley was a rounded boy, with much to much fat and much to little face, his eyes were tiny and nose large, and he was as ill tempered as he was big. But he was spoiled rotten and got everything and anything he wanted, and naturally he would go to a wonderful private school called Smeltings, where all the boys carried walking sticks for the soul purpose of beating each other, while Harry would attend a public school with the lot of children. The three Dursleys shared a common dislike of Harry, and Harry knew this, had known it since before he could walk. He was nothing like them, nothing at all like them. He was petite and shaggy haired, with ‘glowing’ green eyes hidden behind a pair of black rounded spectacles. He was told he looked like his father; a degenerate and a drunk, his aunt had called him. Harry was rather under the impression she was glad his parents had died in that car crash, but rather displeased that she had been saddled with Harry.

If truth be told, Harry was tired of being different, tired of being Harry. No one understood him and no one cared about Harry James Potter of 4 Privet Drive. No one believed him when he talked about his visions and sometimes he longed for a place that would understand, a world where people would smile and say it’s perfectly normal. 

He was so tired and so done; that was until one particularly warm day in June. He was out in the lawn, weeding his aunt’s flowers when the post arrived. The post man gave him a smile, as usual before handing the mail to Harry whose job it was to take it to his uncle for reading with his coffee. Harry took the mail when all to suddenly his mind blanked out and his eyes went wide. His vision blacked out and instead saw black and white. He saw himself walking to the front door and picking up the mail, noticing a letter addressed to himself before returning to the kitchen. His uncle commented that his sister was ill and how unfortunate it was as he worked on his letter. His cousin shouted that Harry had a letter before grabbing it and waving it about, handing it to his parents who went horribly rigid and demanded Harry return to his cupboard.

The post man shook him repeatedly, Harry blinking, realizing he had gone still in his vision. The post man asked him if he was well before Harry gave a hurried answer and ran in with the post. He didn’t say a word to his relatives, instead eating his breakfast of melon and hurrying off to do his chores.

It was early the next morning when the box clacked with the incoming mail. His uncle demanded him to retrieve it as he poured over the morning paper, coffee in his right hand. Harry’s cousin watched him, tapping his walking stick against the edge of the table, waiting for an opportunity to hit Harry with it.

Harry got up, going to the front door, picking up the mail when he saw it. The slightly yellowed parchment that bore his name.

Mr. H. Potter  
The Cupboard Under the Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

It read. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. This was what he had seen in his vision yesterday, with the post.

“What’s taking so long, boy?” his uncle Vernon barked.

Harry jumped into action, closing the letter addressed to him into his cupboard before handing the mall to his uncle before sitting down. Vernon folded his paper, placing it down to peruse it while Dudley threw yet another fit about his measly breakfast of melon. “Oh, Marge is ill,” Vernon commented, reading over a post card, his wife giving a sound of sympathy and suggesting they send a nice bouquet.

No one spared Harry a second glance, and there was no shout of ‘Harry’s got a letter’, as there was in his vision. Dudley finished his melon, before stealing his father’s and hurrying off to beat things with his Smelting’s stick, giving Harry a quick whack before departing. Truth be told, Harry had seen it coming but choose to accept it, hoping they would ignore him long enough for him to return to his cupboard. 

Petunia paid him no mind as he slipped out, going into the hall and opening the small door that led to his bedroom. Climbing inside to his bed, he minded the spiders by the light before closing the door. The envelope that bore his name stared at him before he reached out and grabbed it, turning and over and tearing the wax seal.

He stilled as he opened the letter, listening for signs of his aunt and uncle as if they could hear the rustling of paper. All to slowly and all to carefully he slid the sheets of parchment out from their holding, unfolding them carefully and holding them up to the light.

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

 

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

 

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

 

Harry swallowed, his heart skipping several beats. Had his wish come true? Was this real? Maybe a cruel prank? A school of witchcraft and wizarding? Full of people that might understand what was wrong with him? And then just like that his heart deflated. It had to be a joke. Just one big giant joke.

Trying to stifle the tears that wanted to fall with his hopes and dreams, he stuffed the letter under the mattress, promising to burn it when he got a chance.

 

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

It was a fine Sunday morning, the best they had all summer, his uncle declared; Dudley, however, was not pleased. It was hot and sticky, he claimed, and demanded to be taken to a water park. The closet Harry knew of was one on the other side of Birmingham that Dudley had visited last summer with his best friend Piers Polkiss, an equally ill tempered boy from down the block. Vernon tried to diffuse the situation, reminding Dudley that it was quite a drive to the water park in question. Dudley had a fit then, yelling and screaming that he never got anything he wanted, and that his parents didn’t want him to be happy.

Harry gave a sigh, looking at the calendar. He had just turned 11, that day, but none of the Dursley’s bothered to remember his birthday. He didn’t expect anything on his birthday, but maybe Dudley getting his way this time might be a nice birthday present for Harry, if they allowed him to come.

Petunia gave into her son, saying it could be a nice day trip and they could get a cabin at the park or near it and stay the evening. Vernon gave a chuckle and complimented his son on being a master persuader. “Well, let’s pack provisions for the night and we’ll head out, alright, Dudley?”

Dudley gave a hoot and ran upstairs, ignoring Harry and heading for the phone to call Piers Polkiss and invited him along. The Dursleys vanished upstairs, leaving Harry to his own devices, which involved drawing a cake like shape into the carpet.

A great booming knock from the front door made Harry look up, and Dudley to shout that it was Piers and demanded his father answer the door. “Get the door, boy,” Vernon barked from up the stairs, no doubt busy packing for his trip. With a sigh Harry stood, walking to the door, opening the door to greet Piers only to be surprised by the man that stood on the other side.

The man was much larger than the door frame and had to bend to be able to fit his head low enough to see in the house. He was bearded and looked homeless with his large trench coat that was held together by harsh stitches and patches and rags. He had heard his Aunt Petunia describe these type of people numerous times and how he should send them away. “Um, sorry, but we don’t have anything to give,” Harry muttered, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. The giant of the man sniffled, looking at him, teary eyed.

“Blimey, ye got mighty tall,” he sniffled, rubbing his nose. “All grown up, ye are.”

“Um, I’m sorry, but--”

“Hey, Piers, hurry up so I can show you this--” Dudley stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking at the giant man before running back up and yelling to his parents. The Dursleys came back as a unit, Vernon stilling.

“Whatever it is you’re selling or wanting we are not interested, please, leave,” demanded Vernon.

The giant turned his teary eyes to Vernon, those eyes narrowing into slits. “Ye hush your mouth, Dursley. I’m he’r to collect ‘Arry, o’ course.”

“Collect me?”

A smile broke out on the man’s face as he extended a large calloused hand to Harry. “Rubeus Hagrid, Keepers of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”

Harry felt his heart soar right through his mouth. The letter! Had it been real? He grabbed the man’s hand his vision blacking out and refocusing on a back alley. The man, Hagrid, stood in front of a brick wall, tapping it with his umbrella, the bricks sliding apart to reveal a long alley of shops Harry had never seen. Brooms and spell books. Cauldrons and dragons. It was real.

“Ye a’ight ‘arry?”

“It was real,” Harry muttered. “That Hogwarts is real.”

“NO!” Vernon boomed, stomping down the stairs, grabbing Harry by the back of the shirt, pulling him back. “He will not be going! We swore up and down we’d push that nonsense RIGHT out of him. You people have no right to come here.”

Petunia was wringing her hands as she peered out the windows, worried about the neighbors and what they would see and what they would think.

“Oh? Is a great muggle such as you gunna stop ‘im?”

“Muggle?” Harry questioned, peaking around Vernon.

“Non magic folk, ‘Arry. We’ll ‘splain e’erything, no worries.”

“No! We refuse to have that THING under our roof. If you people wish for us to take care of him than he can attend school with the rest of the normal children. We will not have a FREAK under this roof, taught by some crack pot old fool.”

That seemed to do it as Hagrid pulled his umbrella from his coat, shaking it threateningly at Vernon’s face. “Never insult Albus Dumbledore ‘n front o’ me,” he growled, turning his umbrella quickly at Dudley, who sprouted a curly pig’s tail from his hindquarters, causing his mother to let out a shriek. The Dursleys proceeded to chase after Dudley who was screaming his head off in terror. Hagrid extended his hand to Harry, smiling. “Not plannin’ ter stay are ya?”

Harry almost laughed as he took Hagrid’s hand and left the house with him.

*_*_*_*_*_*

 

Harry couldn’t believe how much his life suddenly changed. His parents hadn’t died in a car crash, his scar wasn’t an accident, he had money, he had a place in the world and it was just all so new. Hagrid had explained everything to him during their trip to Diagon Alley and Harry had never felt more complete than the moment when he first held his wand. He felt complete in many ways but he still couldn’t ask the questions that were plaguing him. Magic existed, that explained A LOT to him, about himself and about strange things that happened around him but that didn’t explain his visions. The things he was seeing. He still kind of wanted answers to that. He read in one of his books about witches called ‘seers’ who had the sight to view the future, but that didn’t seem right to fit what was wrong with him, no, it felt wrong to describe him as a seer. He didn’t ball gaze, or read leaves or cards, he just saw things, as if it were an old black and white film.

Hagrid had given him a vague recollection of what happened the night his parents died, and how the dark wizard Voldemort had sought them out. He had murdered them in cold blood and then had turned his wand on Harry, and miraculously the curse backfired hitting Voldemort and destroy him, as Hagrid told it. Harry knew this was the reason that heads turned when he walked by and whispers followed wherever he walked, but he also had to wonder if something happened that night that gave him this ‘gift’. Did something Voldemort do, unintentionally or otherwise, cause him to see things that could only be described as the future?

For the rest of the summer he was plague by questions about his parents, Voldemort, and the other reasoning behind his eyes. 

Upon his return from Diagon Alley he found himself promptly moved into Dudley’s extra bedroom, to which Dudley hollered endlessly; declaring it unfair. That was where Harry spent the rest of his summer scouring book after book for some notions or indication of what could be wrong with him. He stared at the plain walls, barely lit by a single bedside lamp that gave him just enough light. Hedwig, his owl gifted to him by Hagrid, hooted occasionally in her cage, mainly when she slept as if she was snoring.

By the time September 1st rolled around he was more than ready to leave, but was less enthusiastic about his uncle’s jaunting laughs when he dropped him off.

No sooner had Harry acquired a trolley, his family was already gone, driving off with tires screeching and he could swear he heard the faintest sounds of laughter. He shook it off, however, and dug into his pocket to grip his ticket which read ‘Platform 9 ¾’ and just as his fingers brushed the waxy paper his vision dulled and King’s Cross became heterochromatic around him, the people slowing as a red hair group rushed through them. He saw himself, gazing around confusedly before following behind the red-headed bunch, and soon after he watched boy after boy rush through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10 before disappearing to somewhere on the other side.

The color seeped back into the world, a smile of gratefulness to his gift gracing his face as he moved towards platforms 9 and 10. He moved confidently to the brick wall he saw in the vision, noting the trash bin to the right and the lady boarding the 10:30 am train on his left. Taking a breath he ran through the wall, only cringing slightly in anticipation of a painful crash, pleasantly surprised to feel no pain but a simple whooshing feel as he moved through the wall with ease and arrived onto a hidden platform; a scarlet steam engine yelling that it would be leaving soon.

His smile widened as he moved through the crowd of fellow students bidding their parents goodbye, clutching broomsticks or waving their owls off to fly ahead. True, he didn’t have parents to see him off, or anyone really, but just being in the presence of so many people almost made him feel giddy.

Arriving to the first door, he moved to hoist his trunk up the steps into the train, finding it rather difficult. “Need some help?” a voice offered, causing Harry to turn to see the red heads from his vision. The boy who had asked grabbed one end of the trunk, his doppleganger grabbing the other and helping him into the first available compartment before shouting to a boy down the train by the name of Lee. Both boys didn’t give so much a goodbye before taking off, leaving Harry to his own devices.

He took a seat, placing Hedwig’s cage down next to him before opening it and extending his arm to her. She hopped out onto his arm, nipping affectionately at his finger before looking expectantly for a treat. Giving a small chuckle he dug into his pocket, pulling out a bag of treats Hagrid had given him, holding one out to Hedwig who took it happily before taking off out the open window to fly with the other owls on their way to Hogwarts.

Out on the platform the clock chimed 11am, and the parents cries of goodbye increased as the train began to move forward from the station. Children stuck their heads out of the windows, waving just as enthusiastically to their parents, promising to write as loud as they could before the train picked up to much speed and headed out in the English countryside.

Harry relaxed back into his seat, wondering how long it would take to get to Hogwarts and if he should open a book, or perhaps take a nap. No sooner had he decided to take a nap, the door to his compartment slid open and the red headed boy from his earlier vision stood there, dressed in clothes almost as dirty and as baggy as Harry’s own.

“Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full?” The boy looked nervous of rejection, and rubbed at his freckled covered nose, leaving a spec of dirt behind. He looked friendly enough in Harry’s eyes and Harry gave a nod of consent, the boy giving a grateful smile before sliding the door closed and taking a seat. “I’m Ron, by the way,” he offered, in way of greeting. “Ron Weasley.”

“I’m Harry. Harry Potter,” Harry introduced, forgetting for a moment that his name meant something, and instantly remember when Ron’s eyes widened in sheer awe.

“Not to be rude, but do you really have that scar?” Ron questioned hesitantly, averting his eyes.

Harry almost laughed, before raising the fringe of his hair, kind of finding it funny that the first thing the boy asked about was this silly old scar.

Ron smiled, sitting up a bit straight. “Wicked.”

Harry smiled back, relaxing, putting his feet up on the seat, mimicking the way Ron sat so casually. They easily fell into quick conversation, Ron telling Harry that he had several brothers who had or already were attending Hogwarts, the two oldest had already finished and now held wizarding jobs abroad, and his three other brothers were still in school from 5th year to 3rd year and he had one sister that would be starting next year. “Large family,” Harry commented casually.

“Yeah, lots of hand me downs,” Ron answered, blushing slightly as he pulled at the hem of his shirt which must have belonged to one of his older brothers.

A stout witch stopped outside their compartment, pulling the door open. “Anything from the trolley?”

Ron blushed again, digging into his overlarge pocket, pulling something out that reminded Harry of Aunt Petunia’s tuna and egg salad sandwiches, which was a frightening thought. Without much more thought Harry pulled out a hand full of Galleons, holding them out. “We’ll take two of everything.”

“Whoa!” Ron exclaimed. “You don’t have to--”

“It’s alright,” Harry smiled, taking the sweets and handing her the money, accepting his change. “I need someone to explain what all this is to me.”

Ron’s face lit up as he left the suspicious food on the seat and helped Harry with the arm full of sweets, laying them out on the seat. “So, you were really raised by muggles?” Ron asked, showing Harry the pack of crazy berry Droobles before handing him a box of Every Flavored Beans.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, chewing the large amount of candy in his mouth, swallowing slowly before accepting the Every Flavored Beans. Harry learned quick that when a box said every flavor they meant every flavor, but thanks to his gift he was able to pick through them rather easily without really even thinking about it. He’d never used his gift that way before, but he felt that he was really fortunate as Ron continued to tell him about how his brother swore he got a boogy flavored one once.

After the sweets were gone, they laid back, their stomachs now a full size bigger with the amount of sugar they’d ate. Just as Harry was dozing off into a nap the door to the compartment opened again, a frizzy haired girl already dressed in her school robes stood there, looking about eagerly before sighing in dismay. “Have either of you seen a toad? A boy, Neville, has lost one.”

They both shook their head in the negative, Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers, squeaking a negative. The pathetic little thing, as said by Ron, squirmed about in the piles of trash, the frizzy haired girl looking at it in disgust before closing the door and setting off. “Odd,” Ron yawned, falling back into the seat, falling asleep until they arrived at the station.

*_*_*_*_*_*

“Wait here, just a moment.” Harry’s eyes watched the stern woman that had introduce herself as Professor McGongall walk off to the right, leaving the group of first years gathered on the stairs, talking amongst themselves. Harry stood close to Ron, Ron going on about Wizard’s Chess, a subject which he had started in the boat ride of the lake after they had left the station.

“Hey!” A voice protested behind Harry, as the students were shuffled about and the blonde boy Harry had met in Madam Malkin’s shop just a few days earlier appeared at the top of the stairs, flanked by two Dudley like oafs of boys who had much to much head and not near enough neck. “So it’s true, what they’re saying on the train? Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” The blonde was looking straight at him, and Harry could only guess that the other students had pinpointed him, except the whispers surrounding him would say otherwise; they all seemed surprised. “This is Crabbe and Goyle, and I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” Malfoy was emphasized in such a way that Harry felt this name was important to know, but he didn’t really want to, as this boy was making him increasingly uncomfortable. Ron gave a small chortle behind him, turning Malfoy’s steel grey eyes on him. “No need to ask your name. Red hair, and a hand me down robe, you could only be a Weasley.” Harry looked between them, noting how ‘Weasley’ almost came out as a curse form the other boy’s lips, making Ron’s face heat with anger. “You’ll soon find some wizarding families are better than others, Potter, I can help you there,” Malfoy said, extending his hand.

Harry opened his mouth to retort when he had a sudden thought. Many times he saw visions of Dudley’s bullying, maybe if he touched this boy he could head his insults off and shut him down in his tracks. Giving a much to sweet smile, he took the other boy’s hand, eliciting a gasp of shock that could have only come from Ron right before his vision blacked out completely.

This vision was different than others. Normally, when he had visions it had to do with his immediate surroundings but this time the scenery was completely different. It looked to be a loo, here in Hogwarts, if he had to guess, and somewhere to his right a spell splintered wood, sending shrapnel flying. He saw himself, or who he thought to be himself move behind a wall, holding his wand aloft, panting heavily. Another boy hid behind the opposite wall, a head of blonde hair peaking out just enough for Harry to guess this was Malfoy, whose hand he still held. Malfoy moved first, followed closely by the elder Harry; that Harry shouting an inaudible curse before Malfoy dropped. The younger Harry moved forward, his eyes widening as he watched deep gashes open across Malfoy’s torso, blood pooling out as he convulsed in a paining motion. He gasped as he was pulled back by the younger Malfoy yanking his hand back. “Are you mad, Potter?”

Harry blinked, looking at the 11 year old boy that stood before him. He was going to kill him. He saw it. The blood, the cuts, he fired that curse at this boy. Even if he was like Dudley he didn’t deserve to die, and not by Harry’s hands. “Harry, you can’t be friends with him,” Ron said urgently.

“I--,” he didn’t know what to do.

“He can be friends with whomever he likes, Weasley.”

“I can be friends with both of you,” he decided. “Looking between them. But you can’t insult each other, and you can’t be a prat, Malfoy. I don’t know what gives you the right to act self entitled but if you want to be my friend than you have to accept that Ron was my first friend, and I’m not giving that up for a bully.”

“A bully? How dare you--”

“That’s quite enough,” Professor McGonagall cut in, placing her hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. “We’re ready for you,” she said, leading them into the Great Hall. They flocked forward, the bushy haired girl from the train giving another girl a history on the ceiling and it’s enchantments to make it look like the night sky. Harry half listened, as he was actually kind of curious, but a push from Malfoy from behind made him almost trip over his own feet. He turned to say something biting but stopped when he was reminded of his vision, and quickly looked around to the small three legged stool that sat before them.

Professor McGonagall placed a ragged old hat upon the stool, stepping away as a rip at the brim opened, and the hat spouted a song.

The hall applause for the hat, Professor McGonagall pulling a long piece of parchment out, calling out names. Susan Bones, who Harry recognized as the girl that the frizzy haired girl had been talking to, went to Hufflepuff, the house of the ‘loyal’ as the song had said. When the frizzy haired girl was called, Harry learned her name was Hermione Granger and the hat had sorted her into Gryffindor and on it went, until it got closer and closer to his own name. Malfoy had sat on the stool for all of five seconds before the hat was declaring Slytherin, the house of the cunning and soon McGonagall was calling the name ‘Harry Potter’ to a deafening hush from the students in the hall.

He approached the bench slowly, all eyes on him, the entire hall seeming to tilt towards him as the hat slid over his head. A gasp filled his ears as his vision blacked out for a second time that evening, this time the surrounding much different than a loo. He was somewhere dark and didn’t look to much older than he was now. A teen hovered over him, smirking in delight before a large bird flew in, dropping the very hat that Harry had on his head into his hands. Harry in the vision acted without thought and soon he was drawing a ruby encrusted blade from the raggedy old hat.

Oh my. Oh my. The hat said in his ears. I saw that, can’t hide anything from me, but you wish you could. No one knows of this gift, oh no, much to dangerous. Very rare, very rare indeed. Oh, you will be an interesting one, Harry Potter, but on where to put you. Ravenclaw would no doubt love to have a gift like that, and with the gift of premonition you could no doubt fit in quite well, but no, on no. Much better suited to Slytherin I think but you, my boy, pulled the Sword of Godric Gryffindor from my depths. Hm. You could fit so well, but where to put you.

“I want--” Did he know what he wanted? He wasn’t even sure what the houses meant beyond what the song had said. He had seen what he would do to Malfoy, and Malfoy was in Slytherin, did that mean that he had been in Gryffindor? Did he do something that stupid because of a rivalry? Did he harm someone? Kill because of it? He could stop it. Couldn’t he? He could hear the sorting hat tsking amusedly around him, and he knew the decision he had to make. 

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat declared, to a collective gasp as McGonagall removed the hat, her eyes wide in shock, her hands trembling slight. Harry stood, all eyes on him, the eyes of one Professor in particular felt like their were burning a hole into his head. He looked at the greasy black haired professor, who stared at him unblinkingly, never letting his eyes leave him as he walked towards the table of green and silver, the whispers growing in intensity.

Taking the seat next to Malfoy, Malfoy ordered Crabbe and Goyle to move further down, allowing Harry all the space he needed. Professor McGonagall shook her head, continuing the sorting, sending Harry’s friend Ron to Gryffindor where he was greeted by a group of his siblings. Once the last student, Blaise Zabini, was sorted, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and carried the stool and hat away. Their headmaster stood, his beard tucked comically into his belt, his smile wide as he waved his hands. “Let the feast begin,” he announced, giving Harry a small wink as the platters of the table filled with steaming fresh plates of pheasant and Cornish hen, stuffed with things Harry didn’t know but was eager to try.

“It makes sense, really,” Malfoy was telling Pansy Parkinson, a small girl with a bob of black hair and a pointed nose that remind him of Aunt Petunia’s with just as much equal turn up as hers. “He is a Potter and the Potter’s were once a very renowned pureblood family. Almost as good as mine.”

“You would think,” Pansy began, her voice much to high. “That he would be a Gryffindor, I heard from mum that his whole family has been Gryffindors.”

“Except for his Grandmother,” Malfoy put in. “She was a Black, Blacks were always in Slytherin except for Sirius Black, but after what he did, I’m glad he wasn’t in our house.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry started, swallowing his food down with a large gulp of pumpkin juice. “But I’m sitting right here, and it’s just weird that everyone knows so much about my family and I don’t even really remember what my parents look like.”

Malfoy shook his head, forking a small piece of potato. “Not your family as a whole, but the Potter side, at least. All the Pureblood families know the lines of the other pureblood families. We’re all enter related as well.”

“You mean like incest?” Harry questioned.

“It’s likely,” Pansy answered. “A lot of second cousins and first cousins marry each other, especially when you have a family like the Black family. The one of the oldest pureblood families in the books and their line goes back centuries. We’re all related to the Black family somehow.”

“Oh,” Harry said, taking a bite of potato. “And my grandmother was a Black?”

“That’s right,” Malfoy confirmed. “A Slytherin too. She was James Potter’s mother, and James Potter was in Gryffindor, everyone knows that. That’s where they say he got his brave streak in him that led to his death.”

Harry slammed down his fork, trying not to see red. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”

“Look, I’m sorry but--”

“Oh, come on, Malfoy, don’t be rude. None of us were alive then, and you’d be angry too if someone was talking bad about Lucius, so why don’t we just drop it before you all say something you’re really regret, okay? We’re supposed to be a family, right? So let’s not kill each other, okay?” Blaise Zabini cut in, swallowing the pit of potato and hen that had been rolling about in his mouth. Harry gave the dark skinned boy a thankful smile, which he returned before offering Harry some dressing that was on his end of the table.

By the time dessert rolled around Harry didn’t think he could take another bite, but once their plates were cleared and the puddings appeared he somehow made room. As he shoved bite after bite into his mouth he couldn’t help but think he was really going to like this place.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Harry ran his fingers over the green and silver scarf, his eyes scanning the boys dorm, noting all the silver bedding and green curtains that made the room almost seem to dark and a bit cold. “Is something wrong?” Blaise asked, sitting on the bed to Harry’s left, removing his shoes and socks, stuffing the wooly black sock into his shoes.

“No, I was just looking. It just feels, odd being here, I guess.”

“Because you were raised by muggles, right? Everyone has heard all about it. A lot of people can’t believe Dumbledore allowed you to be raised by muggles. You of all people.”

“Father says it’s because Dumbledore is a bit on the mad side,” Malfoy chimed in, sitting in the bed on Harry’s right. “Father says Dumbledore has been going off his rocker since before you-know-who was destroyed.”

“I’m sorry, Malfoy, I don’t want to be rude, but do you think for yourself?” Harry asked, before realizing that did sound far ruder than he intended for it. Blaise gave a laugh, climbing under his sheets. “I just mean, ever since dinner whenever a topic is brought up you start with ‘father says’, like your father’s thoughts are influencing your own. You know? It’s okay to think for yourself.”

“He’s got a point there, Malfoy.”

“Oh, sod off, the both of you,” Malfoy glared, climbing into his own bed and drawing the curtains closed.

“I didn’t mean to offend him.”

“Harry, a knealze would offend Malfoy, don’t take it to heart.”

“I’ll try not to,” he said, climbing into his own bed, awing at how unbelievably soft the sheets were. He opened his mouth to make a remark about them, but found his eyes gone and closed before his head even hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Future that Haunts  
Rating: PG  
Pairings: None  
Warnings: Slytherin!Harry  
Summary: Harry James Potter was born with a gift, a gift he has no explanation for. Ever since he could remember touching people or objects made him see things; things he could only explain as being the future. Upon entering Hogwarts, the visions are even more terrifying than anything he could ever dream up, and there’s only one thing he can do; change the future to stop the visions from coming true.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and some lines belong to JK Rowling. I do not own them.

The Future That Haunts

To say Harry got off to a bad start would be an understatement. After, stupidly, telling his housemates to go ahead to Transfiguration, he stumbled around looking for his shoe and when he finally found it he realized he had no idea where he needed to go. He knew the Transfiguration classroom was somewhere on the main floor and after running about for nearly 10 minutes he had bumped into Ron Weasley who seemed to be just as frazzled. Harry offered up a friendly smile in greeting but Ron simply averted his eyes, trying to stay two paces ahead of Harry until they reached the Transfiguration classroom.

McGonagall was not amused by either of their tardiness and took five points each from them and told them to find their seats. Ron had bowed his head and took a seat next to a boy he identified as Seamus, while Harry took the only seat available next to Theodore Nott, the quietest boy of his year who didn’t even so much as look up from his notes.

By the time he reached Potions he was tired from Professor Binns History of Magic introduction. The old ghost of a professor didn’t seem to realize he even had a class in front of him and rambled unendingly from the moment they walked in till the moment they left. Harry could have swore he was still going on as they walked out the door.

When he reached Potions he took the first available seat in the dark room, Malfoy giving him a pointed look before taking the seat in front of him, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise was right behind him, taking the seat on Harry’s left, giving Malfoy a kick from under the deck, making the blonde glare. “Oh, hello,” the voice to his right chimed, gathering his attention to see Hermione Granger smiling rather happily at him. “I hadn’t realized who you were on the train, that was awfully rude of me. I’ve read all about you, of course.”

“Read about me?”

“Oh, of course, you mentioned several times in Greatest Magical Triumphants of the 20th century. I’m Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger,” she held out her hand and Malfoy coughed. Harry tossed him a look before smiling and taking her hand.

“Harry Potter.”

Before he could let go his vision blurred out as he was so use to. They were in the very room they were sitting now, only he wasn’t wearing Slytherin Green but Gryffindor Crismon and the door swung open with a rather loud clang, and in swooped Professor Snape who turned on Harry the first opportunity he got. His voice was muffled but Harry could still hear sounds, words; things that were entirely new to him in his visions. As garbled as it currently was he could still make out words, something he’d never experienced before.

“Mr. Potter, do you plan to hold Ms. Granger’s hand the whole class or do you care to pay attention?”

Harry gave a small gasp as his vision righted itself, bringing him back to the real world where Professor Snape was leering down at him in full force. “Seeing as Mr. Potter has come to Hogwarts with such a formidable knowledge that he feels it necessary to flirt during my class, perhaps you can tell us what you get when you add Powdered Root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood.”

Harry blinked. This was the question, the questions he had just been asked in the vision. “The Draught of Living Death?” he answered back hesitantly. Snape went rigid, eyes blinking for a moment before he regained his composure, moving closer.

“And where would one happen to find a Bezoar?”

“The stomach of a goat, sir?” Harry answered back, remembering the muffling that had been in his ears moments ago. Snape moved closer, looking over the open notebooks and study texts near by as if to find a source to say Harry was cheating.

“And, Mr. Potter, would you be able to tell me the differences between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”

“Aren’t they the same thing, professor?”

Professor Snape glanced at the books around Harry again, before turning with a swoosh of his cloak, returning to his desk. “20 points to Slytherin, and next time pay attention, Potter.”

There was a quiet cheer of excitement from the surrounding Slytherins, Malfoy turning in his seat, smirking at Harry. “Nice going, Potter.”

He gave a small smile, before remembering that he and Malfoy were meant to be fighting, but on the versa he had chosen this path to protect the other boy. “That was really impressive, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Did you read the text book too? I feel like the only one that did.”

“Just glanced at it,” he admitted, but apparently to Hermione it sounded like he was being humble. She gave him a bright smile and turned to begin taking notes as Professor Snape went on about the potions they would be covering in their first year.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“Ready for our first flying lesson, Harry?” Blaise asked as they walked out of the dungeons.

“A bit nervous, never really been on a broom before.”

Blaise smacked him on the back, giving him a smile. “No need to be nervous, most people haven’t had a lick of flying time either, especially muggleborns. Never even touched a broom, so you won’t be alone.”

“It’s alright, Potter, I can give you loads of tips,” Malfoy chimed in, catching up with them in a couple of paces. “I’ve been flying since I was five. Father insisted I be the best in my year, maybe even good enough to make the house Qudditch team as a first year. You know, no first year has been on a house team in over a century.”

“And you won’t be the first,” a low voice said before the small boy known as Nott pushed past them, shouldering Malfoy unnecessarily hard, making the young heir glare in return.

Blaise grabbed Malfoy’s arm, pulling him off. “Ignore him, Malfoy, don’t make us lose the house points because of him.”

Malfoy gave a firm ‘humph’, pulling his arm away and making the trek across the lawn with a little more stomp than Harry felt necessary.

Their professor--a short gray haired woman with a rounded face--Madame Hooch, was already waiting for them with brooms lined up along the ground; one for each first year. “Find a spot. Find a spot,” she called, ushering first years into place. “Good afternoon,” she greeted, going down the line.

“I can’t believe they’re make us use old Cleansweeps,” whispered Malfoy. “Father is getting me a new Nimbus 2000 for Christmas. It’s almost an embarrassment to fly these.”

Harry shook his head slightly, turning to Madame Hooch who was giving them proper instruction on how to summon their brooms to them. Placing his hand over the broom he yelled ‘up’, the broom rocketing up into his hand, sending him into another vision just as quickly as he touched it. The scenery was different again, almost like a dungeon from what he could tell. There was one lone door where Ron Weasley pulled at it, attempting to open it to avail. Above them dozens upon dozens of keys flew about, one of them seemed to be wincing as it flew in a limping motion, it’s wing crushed and mussed.

The Harry in the vision took hold of the broom, setting the keys into motion, the group of them swooping down swarming on Harry as he mounted the broom and took off.

“Neville!!!”

Harry blinked as the shouts of Neville pulled him back, he was starting to wonder if his visions would continue uninterrupted or if they were meant to stop at a certain point. Either way, he had been pulled back to see Madame Hooch helping a whimpering Neville to his feet. Harry had learned by now that Neville was kind of bumbling clutz of a round boy, who seemed to have his heart in the right place but had a hard time not tripping over his own feet. Madame Hooch looked among them, giving them a warning to remain off their brooms while she took Neville to the Hospital Wing and she would seen Professor McGonagall or Flitwick to watch over them as she attended the situation.

A hand on his shoulder made him look at the soft hand before meeting the owner in the form of one Hermione Granger, who was peering at him oddly. “Are you alright, Harry? You went sort of rigid.”

“Oh? Yes. I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“You did the same thing when you touched my hand. You just kind of went really still and just stared forward. Your eyes were still blinking, you were still breathing, but it was like you weren’t really seeing anything.”

“It’s nothing. Just a little thrown off.”

“--maybe if the fat lump had remembered to give this a squeeze he would have remembered to fall on his fat ass.”

Hermione sighed, turning her head to look at Malfoy who was holding some kind of clear sphere from what Harry could see. “Is he always a prat?”

“It’s starting to seem like it,” Harry conceded before walking over. “Malfoy, don’t be a prat, give it back to one of the Gryffindors so they can return it to him.”

“Don’t be such a Gryffindor, Potter. Just planning to leave it somewhere for him to find. Perhaps the roof?”

“Madame Hooch said not to be on our brooms,” reminded Harry.

“Try and stop me,” Malfoy taunted, mounting his broom and taking off. With a sigh, Harry mounted his own broom both Blaise and Hermione hurrying to stop him.

“You’ll get yourself killed,” Blaise jumped in.

“It’s not worth getting expelled,” Hermione chimed in.

Harry gave her what he hoped was a ‘thanks for your concern’ smile before mounting his broom, kicking off from the ground ascending rather shakily until he was level with Malfoy. “Come on, Malfoy, just give it back.”

“Defending the Gryffindors, Potter? Just have to be a saint, don’t you? They’re not your housemates, we are!”

“Housemates or not, you’re acting like a prat. It’s not yours so just give it back.”

“Make me,” Malfoy challenged, tossing it in the air before catching it. Harry leaned forward, shooting his broomstick forward, trying to catch the glass ball to a gasp from the students below.

“Potter! Malfoy!!” the cold voice of Professor Snape barely reached them, both boys looking down to see their Head of House and Potions professor glaring absolute murder. Once he saw he had both of their attention he pointed to the ground, leaving no room for option or argument. Malfoy turned a glare on Harry, obviously blaming him for getting them in trouble and in an act that was so plainly retaliation he reared back and threw the glass sphere.

It was almost an instinct that made Harry shoot after it, ignoring the angry shoot from above as he hurled towards the high tower of the courtyard; his eyes focused solely on the sphere as it came hurtling back down. He reached his hand out, letting his fingers close around the cold metal around the sphere, turning his body just in time to do a barrel roll and pull to a stop; the sphere resting safely in his hand. 

He raised it into the air before realizing that he was in unbelievable trouble, and by the looks of the scolding Malfoy was currently receiving they were done for; both of them.

No sooner had his feet touched the ground, harsh calloused fingers were grabbing him by the ear. “I’ll be writing to your father, Malfoy,” Professor Snape sneered, pulling Harry by his ear back towards the schools. “As for you, Potter, you could have got yourself killed. Planning to prove that you’re your father’s son, are you? Never see such a display, I should have you expelled for that maneuver and if you were in any other house I’d be taking enough points that your housemates would exile you.”

He kept his eyes averted, listening to Snape’s berating as they trudged through the halls, stopping in front of a classroom Harry was unfamiliar with. “Wait here, Potter,” Snape ordered, opening the door and telling a boy named ‘Flint’ to step out.

Harry had never seen a troll before, but he’d heard about them from the boys in his dorm and from their descriptions he could imagine Flint being half troll. He was a gangly boy, quite taller than Harry with hair just as messy and teeth much to big for his mouth. It almost made Harry want to comment, but he thought better not. 

Snape grabbed his robes, pushing him forward. “Flint, I put Potter in your hands. Since Higgs has found it necessary to sprain his wrist, train Potter to take his place.”

Flint looked him over, crossing his arms. “He’s just a first year, probably doesn’t even have a broom. I mean no disrespect, Professor, but I’m not wasting my time on him unless I’m getting something out of it.”

“You’ll do as I say.”

Harry watched as Professor Snape turned, his robes billowing as he walked away, leaving him alone with Flint. “I’m not training some half wit half blood to play Qudditch, let alone a first year. You can show up to practice, either you get it or you don’t.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“This isn’t fair!” Malfoy protested for the seventh time that afternoon. “First years aren’t allowed on the house teams, it’s against the rules.”

“Against the rules unless there’s express permission from the Headmaster,” Blaise clarified.

“Professor Snape said he received permission from Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall said she saw the whole thing and while she found my actions ‘dangerous and idiotic’ she agreed I had the talent for being a seeker, even if it was for Slytherin.”

“Still utterly unfair,” pouted Malfoy.

“Harry! Harry Potter!”

Harry turned, his face suddenly full with a pair of doppelgangers who threw their arms around him far to familiarly. “Just heard from Wood,” the one on the right said.

“You’re all the talk amongst the teams,” the one on the left added.

“I’m Fred, by the way, I’m sure Ron told you about us, considering all he talks about is how Harry Potter had been his friend first and then the nasty Slytherins stole him away.”

Harry looked between them and nodded. “Then you must be George,” he said, looking to the twin on his right who beamed.

“Right you are. In all honesty, Harry, we told him to buck up and be your friend, you’re not specky like the other Slytherins.”

Malfoy coughed, glaring. “Look whose talking.” He was pointedly ignored.

“Anyways,” Fred cut in. “We’re the Gryffindor beaters and we’re really looking forward to the first match and promise not to bloody you up to much, but you know, nature of the game and all.”

“Bloody me up? Beaters? They’re the ones that hold the bats, right?”

Both boys gawked at him, shaking Harry slightly. “You mean you don’t know anything about Qudditch? We would have thought Flint would have told you everything so you’d know exactly how to cheat without getting caught, but to not tell you anything?” George gasped utterly flabbergasted.

Blaise grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him away. “Don’t worry, Harry, Flint can just be a bit off putting towards first years. You still have till after Halloween to learn the basics of Qudditch, and we all saw your flying, you’re a born natural. Now, we have Charms and then after that we can talk Qudditch.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“You get it yet?” Blaise asked, pumpkin juice in one hand, a sugar quill in the other and a book stuff under his arm.

Malfoy grabbed the book, flipping the pages. “You’re going to confuse him Zabini. All you need to know, Potter, is to catch the snitch and stay away from those Weasleys. Flint, Pucey and Montague will take care of the rest.”

Harry picked up a pumpkin cake, putting it on his plate before cutting a small piece out. “Yeah, I got that. The snitch is worth 150 points and each goal is worth 10, but what if they score more than 150 points before I get to the snitch?”

Blaise shook his head to the negative, moving his hand over the Halloween feast, trying to decide what to pick out of it. “Not really a problem at school level Qudditch. I mean, when you get into the professional matches you really have to worry about stuff like that, but I mean, at this level? It’s pretty rare to get over 50 points.”

“But it could happen,” Nott supplied, making the boys jump in surprise, having not realize he had been seating there. Pansy Parkinson had jumped too, having not realized he had been sitting next to her before turning back to Milicent Bulstrode and continuing on their conversation as if it had not been interrupted.

Harry sighed, picking up his pumpkin juice. “So, focus on the snitch, got it. But Flint isn’t really giving me flying time in practice. He told me to sit on the bench and watch and he’s making Higgs fly with one hand and it looks kind of messy.”

“He’s just being a prat, Harry, he’d been mad not to put you in with Higgs being hurt. It’s going around, mainly by Pansy, that Higgs was in Charms when one of his spells went wrong and broke his wrist. They’re saying he was trying things not on the curriculum and being an idiot, but who knows?”

“Well, I mean, I want to play but--”

“TROLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!!”

Harry looked up, with every student in the house to see their most nervous Professor, Quirrell, running through the doors as if a banshee was on his tail. His turban was askew as he motioned desperately behind him, his face going red before hitting the ground. The room was in immediate uproar of fear and panic, students screaming and trying to grab as many sweets and shove them in their robes as they could.

“QUIET!!” Dumbledore called over the hall, his wand at his throat, voice seeming to be magically amplified, stopping everyone in their tracks. “Prefects please return your houses to your dorms, quickly as possible.”

The Slytherin prefects took lead, gathering everyone up, ushering first years ahead of everyone else. “Stick together,” a fifth year prefect said, pushing Harry along. Blaise grabbed Harry’s sleeve, keeping a hold of him as they moved through the herd of students.

“Where’s Hermione?” a voice floated over as they moved past the Gryffindors. Harry didn’t know the student who had asked but he knew he was the dark skinned friend of Seamus, who blew everything up.

“Lavendar said she heard her crying in the lavatory after what Ron said after Charms,” Neville commented.

“I didn’t mean to make her cry! But you guys have to admit, she is such a know it all!” Ron argued in his own defense.

“Potter, don’t stop walking,” Malfoy hissed, giving Harry a push, sending him right into Ron. Ron tumbled into Seamus, but the contact had been enough. Harry’s vision blacked out, righting to show Hermione in the girl’s lavatory, a troll standing over her. Her eyes widened in fear as she reacted on instinct and dove under the sink as Harry and Ron ran into the room.

It was a short vision, but it was enough to tell him what he had to do. He righted himself and took off running without a second thought. “Potter!” Malfoy yelled. “Potter! Where are you going?!”

Harry didn’t turn back, he just ran towards the girl’s lavatory in his vision, and faintly he could hear footsteps following him.

A thumping just up the corridor made him skid to a halt, the shadow of the troll moving across the far end, moving towards the lavatory. It dragged it’s club against the floor, looking around as if looking for something before continuing on his way.

“What are you doing?” Ron’s voice asked behind him.

“The troll is going to the loo, and Hermione is in there.”

“What do you care? You sided with the Slytherins,” muttered Ron, averting his eyes when Harry turned to look at him. The troll in the distance gave a low grunt, making Harry remember the situation at hand.

“Lets help Hermione first! And then we can talk about that,” he decided, running forward into the bathroom, yelling for Hermione to move; the girl diving under the sink in response. The troll swung forward, taking out three of the four sinks and narrowly missing Hermione who covered her head in response to the shatter of porcelain and water.

As the troll swung back, Harry grabbed the club, being lifted easily off his feet onto the troll’s shoulder. “Harry!” Hermione shouted, looking around for something to help as Harry tried to distract the troll. Harry took the first thing he could find--a broken shard of sink--and shoved it up the troll’s wide nostil; the creature sniffing in indignation, bucking wildly and knocking Harry to the floor with a ‘umph’.

“Ron! Use your wand!” Hermione shouted, looking for her own.

Ron scrambled for his wand, pulling it out of his robes and getting a firm grip on it, shouting ‘wingardium leviosa’, catching the troll’s club in the charm. But in his excitement he immediately released the charm, letting the club fall back on the troll’s head, causing the big oaf of a creature to teeter before crashing to the ground with a very audible echoing thud, narrowly missing Harry.

“See? Its all in the confidence of the charm,” Hermione smiled, hurrying over to Harry to check if he was alright. 

Ron turned to Harry, giving a bashful shrug, his feet kicking at a piece of porcelain. “I thought, because you ended up in Slytherin you were just as slimmy as the rest of them, but I guess--”

“Oh!! Oh my goodness!” The three 11 year olds halted, their backs going rigid as the stern voice of Professor McGonagall who hurried into the lavatory, gasping at the sight of the collapsed troll; her fellow professors on her heels. “You three! Explain yourselves!”

“Well you see….we..and then I..and it…” Ron and Harry rambled off, pointing to anything they could try to explain away this situation.

“It’s my fault, Professor. As we were leaving the hall I caught sight of the Troll and thought I could head it off; I’ve read all about them and thought it would be rather easy. Harry and Ron came running after me to try and stop me. If they hadn’t have come, I’d probably be dead,” lied Hermione, trying to flatten her skirt in shame.

“Be that as it may,” Professor McGonagall began, hands on her hips. “Not many first years would survive going up against a fully grown mountain troll. Unfortunately, Ms. Granger 10 points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement. As for you two,” she turned on Harry and Ron then, both boys avoiding her gaze. “Ten points to each of you for sheer dumb luck. Now, the three of your return to your dorm immediately. Professor Snape, if you would see Mr. Potter safely back to the dungeon.”

Professor Snape gave a nod, motioning Harry with his hand to follow. With one step Harry noticed something completely off and find himself scanning his professor for the source of his trauma.

The elder man’s ankle looked rather mangled, from what Harry could see. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked as if blood was clotting and drying against the fabric of his pants. Snape seemed to sense his train of thought and moved his cloak to cover his leg. “Keep moving, Potter.”

Harry nodded, continuing their trek towards the dungeon behind his Professor until a thought occurred to him. It was a stupid thought and rather random on his part but other way he reached out and grabbed Professor’s Snape’s hand, urging a vision of something to start.

To say the experience was new was an understatement. The pictures were harsh and jaunted, moving about in almost a static like motion the telly got when the antenna wasn’t picking up signal. A shadow of a three head dog seemed to surge forward, there was a door closing, a figure running down a hall, and Professor Snape pressing Professor Quirrell against a wall with the deadly sneer Harry had ever seen. “What are you doing, boy? Professor Snape sneered, pulling his hand free from Harry’s grip.

“Was scared,” Harry lied, looking away.

Snape was unmoving as he stared at Harry, looking him over several times. “What did you just do?”

“I told you, I was scared so I grabbed your hand. I’m sorry, I wont do it again.”

“Do not take me for a fool, boy, I have studied legilimency long before you were born and recognize it for what it is. The question is, how did you come upon that skill? Did Granger find it in a book? Did someone in your year tell you about it?”

Harry blinked several times. “What is legilimency, sir?”

“What did I say about playing me for a fool? Practiced it, have you? That must be how you knew the answer to those questions the first day of Potions. Hmph, to have such a skill at your age--”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, sir!”

“Try again, Potter. Make my evening,” Professor Snape challenged in a low tone the suggested he would not be amused in the least. Harry looked at him and then looked around, wondering what he should do. Nobody knew about his gift and now Professor Snape was calling it ‘legilimency’, a term Harry had never heard or seen. Besides that, he had grabbed Snape’s hand on a whim, he hadn’t really expected it to work; having never had control over his gift before, and there was the off chance it was a one time fluke. “I’m waiting, Mr. Potter.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat before surging forward and grabbing his professor’s hand, closing his eyes to will a vision. Only, nothing came. All he saw was the back of his eyelids and nothing more. He opened his eyes to apologize when he suddenly felt the swoosh of power that his visions invoked, his sight going black and white as it usually did. This time he found himself at a Qudditch match; Slytherin versus Gryffindor it seemed. And just above the Quidditch pitch was himself, dangling helplessly from a thrashing broom. His eyes scanned the area, finding Snape in the crowd who was muttering rapidly under his breath and just a seat behind him Quirrell was doing the same, both of their eyes glued to Harry unblinkingly.

A gasp escaped his mouth as his vision righted and moonlight filled him once more, showing the stern expression of Professor Snape’s face. “Well, Potter, I’m waiting.”

“Wait, you didn’t see that?” questioned Harry, pulling his hand away. Snape had stopped before, he had questioned the visions as if he had seen them himself at the same time that Harry did, and yet, this time he didn’t seem to realize that Harry had seen anything at all; he hadn’t even felt the magic.

“You can explain this to the Headmaster, Potter. The use of Legilimency is strictly regulated by the Ministry of Magic, if you have taken upon your heroic self to learn such a thing to keep yourself ahead in school then we have no choice but too--”

“I REALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS!” Harry shouted, before realizing he had just yelled at a teacher and covered his mouth.

“You dare raise your voice to a professor? If you were not in my house, I’d have taken 50 points from you for that, Potter.”

“But, sir, you’re blaming me, and threatening me over something I don’t even know how to control! I don’t know what this is! I’ve been able to do this since I was little, before I can even remember and you’re threatening to expel me over it! And it’s not my fault!”

“Just like a Potter to try and worm his way out of everything,” Snape sneered, grabbing Harry’s arm.

Harry gasped louder than he ever had when his visions over took, his body shaking with the force of power that was overtaking his body. His vision was beginning to swim and then suddenly he couldn’t see at all.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

It was the afternoon, a bird chirped overhead, water splashed against the grass; warm bark was at his back and a book was in his lap. “Severus!” he looked up at the call of his name, a vision in Gryffindor crimson making her way over to him.

The red head stopped short--huffing slightly as if she had just ran from the castle--and smiled, her green eyes shinning in the mid-afternoon sun. Those eyes. They looked familiar, he’d seen them before, in the mirror. “Lily, did you run to try and be on time?” Lily? Was this THE Lily? The Lily he’d only dreamed about? The Lily who gave him his very eyes? Who was talking to her? That wasn’t his own voice, it was someone different.

“I’m late, I know, but I thought if I ran I could make it on time, but seems I didn’t.”

“Potter wasn’t harassing you again, was he?”

“Hm? Oh, no, not at all. He and Black were off doing whatever it is they do with their lives that makes them feel complete. I was actually in the library with Remus going over practical charms for O.W.L.S.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t spend time around any of those four. They’re trouble, the whole lot of them.”

Lily gave a laugh, plopping down on the grass. “Just Black and Potter, really. They can be such utter prats, even to Remus. To be honest, I don’t know why Remus even stays their friend. I asked him once and he just kind of looked at me all sad like. It’s the same with Peter, all they do is push him around.”

“Potter is just an arrogant Pure-blood, the lot of them are like that. I should know, I’m a Slytherin, I have the most experience with purebloods.”

Lily gave another laugh. “Yes, yes, I guess you do.”

-*-

His back hit the wall hard, no doubt leaving marks. “Come on then, you want to duel like muggles, Snivellus, we can duel like muggles!” a black haired, glasses wearing boy taunted.

His eyes narrowed as he moved off the wall and swung his fist forward, the black hair individual dodging before swinging out, leaving him with a brand new black eye. The black haired boy smirked, and turned to his shaggy haired friend, giving him a high five as Harry felt himself draw his wand and pointed it straight at the back of his nemisis. “Sectum--”

“STOP!! STOP THIS NOW!!” Lily yelled, jumping between the two teens, holding her arms out.

“Step aside, Evans, Snivellus started this and now I’m going to finish it.”

“You’re the one that cursed me when I wasn’t looking Potter!”

“I didn’t do ANYTHING to you! You can ask Sirius! I was talking to him about the last Qudditch World Cup, I wasn’t even paying attention to you!”

“Enough!” Lily yelled. “You’re both sixth years! Don’t you think it’s time to start acting like it?”

He glared daggers at the one identified as James Potter and with a swoosh of his robes he took off. “I swear, Lily, I didn’t try to curse him or jinx him, he just round hit me for no reason!”

“It’s true, Lily, I was standing with James, he really didn’t do anything this time.”

“It’s nice of you to try and protect him, Remus, but--”

He stomped off, Lily’s voice trailing off into the background as he vowed his revenge on James Potter.

-*-

“You’ve done well for me, and for that I will grant your request to let the woman live.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

A cold shiver ran over his body as the hissing sound of the voice faded away into blackness. His eyes blinked open slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small cot surrounded by four white curtains, a small night stand to the side that held his glasses and a small glass of water.

One of the curtains moved as the medic came through holding a tray. She was a small witch, a bit rounded at the middle with a small bit of aging in her eyes. Her hair looked a bit frazzle but Harry had a feeling it was well into the late hours of the evening. “Ah, you’re awake, I will inform the Headmaster straight away.”

“What time is it?”

“Some time after 2 in the morning. I was coming to give you one last glance over before I turned in for that night.”

“Only 2? I haven’t been out very long, have I? It was almost 10 when I was walking back with Professor Snape.”

“Oh, my dear boy, that was roughly two days ago. Haven’t moved an inch from that spot, been asleep almost the whole time except for the occasional twitch in your hands or eyes. Though, one time your eyes did open completely for about 10 minutes you stared up at the ceiling and then they just closed.”

“Oh…”

“You did have visitors though. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley all visited you twice each. Now, drink this and I will go and fetch Professor Dumbledore,” Madam Pomfrey instructed, placing a light blue bottle on his bedside table.

“No need Poppy, I am already hear,” Dumbledore answered, his voice slightly laden with exhaustion. He entered the small cubicle, closing the curtain behind him. Grabbing a stool he picked up his beard and sat carefully before letting his beard fall naturally into his lap.

“Don’t stay to long, Headmaster. I’d like him to take that tonic and than a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion. We don’t want to disturb his sleep partners.”

“But, of course,” Dumbledore acquiesced, turning to look at Harry; eyes twinkling behind his half moon spectacles. “I heard quite an interesting tale about you, Harry.”

“I swear, Professor, I don’t know what the legit-mancy thing is.”

Dumbledore raised his hand to silence Harry, smiling softly. “Dear boy, I don’t believe for a moment you have been practicing Legilimency. Professor Snape seems to have gotten ahead of himself, however, these visions of yours--”

“I don’t have visions.”

“--are something new altogether. I have been up for the past couple nights during your comatose state trying to find something that can explain what Professor Snape was telling, but I was hoping perhaps you could tell me something more? How long have these happened? Professor Snape said you told him you’ve been having them before you can remember. When’s the earliest you remember them happening?”

Harry heaved a sigh, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “I think I was four or five. I don’t really remember the vision or what I touched, but I remember being surprised by it.”

“I see. So these visions are activated by touch? And you see the past?”

“I don’t think so, sir. Until Halloween I’ve only ever seen things that haven’t happened yet; the future, I think. But touching Professor Snape I saw lots of things. I saw my mum and my father and there were other boys too; a Sirius Black and a Remus, I didn’t catch his last name.”

“How very interesting. If you do not mind indulging an old man,” Dumbledore smiled, holding out his hand, showing Harry the aged skin usually hidden by rather large sleeves. “This is your choice, Harry, I’m not forcing you to try and evoke this ability.”

“It doesn’t always work when I want it to, Sir, most times it just happens.”

“That’s alright, dear boy, but I would like you to try something. If a vision does happen, I want you to try and walk me through what you see? Can you try that?”

Harry crushed his blanket under his hand, looking around. “I can try, but like I said, I don’t always control them and I’ve only heard actual noise or words a couple of times.”

“There is no pressure at all, Harry. I am fully giving you the choice in this.”

With a small smile, Harry shifted in the bed, reaching over the small space to close his hand around Dumbledore’s. His visions swam and he found himself below a set of stairs and above him he saw Dumbledore, watching someone else. He had to move to get a better look, and when he finally did he saw Malfoy with his wand pointed at Dumbledore. Only, this Malfoy was different. He looked as if he had been crying for weeks, completely disheveled and shaking like a leaf. Dumbledore was speaking to him, and Malfoy was slowly lowering his wand. Harry could see others now, people he’d never seen before, and one of them was leaning rather close to Malfoy, running a hand over his, whispering in his hair. Harry, under the stairs began to move, when he was stopped by Professor Snape telling him to stay quiet with a finger to his lips. Snape climbed the stairs, the witch in black with the wild hair moved away from Malfoy and looked at him, her lips cracking into a smile showing yellowed teeth. Harry tried to describe the things he was seeing but no sound would come from his mouth.

A green light flash before Harry’s eyes and he fell back, gasping for breath, blinking several times to find himself back in the hospital wing.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Dumbledore asked softly.

“I tried to talk, but I couldn’t, I’m sorry. Every time I opened my mouth there was nothing. I really tried--”

“You did wonderfully, dear boy, you may not realize it but you were speaking in this physical plane. Mind, your words weren’t very coherent but you did mention ‘tower’, myself and a green light. I can only assume you saw my own death and if that is the case, I’d rather like to be surprised,” he smiled. “Now, as for your gift, I have an inkling to what it could be, however, if I am correct there’s not much knowledge I can give you on the subject.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well, my boy, it’s just the mere fact that if this gift is what I believe it be, it’s not been seen or heard of since the time of Merlin and Morgana Le Fey. The books merely state that one of these great magical ancestors held a very powerful magic of premonition, one unlike seers. A power that could see the past or the future and was fully controlled by the user’s magic; a gift most seers and diviners would give an arm or wand for, Harry. It stands to reason, Harry, that as your magic grows as will this gift and currently being in the presence of adult’s magic such as myself or Professor Snape is causing your gift to be rather confused, hence why it’s exhausting your body.”

“Wait, so, if this is ancient magic that means--”

“Even I can not help you, this area is completely unknown, but I do grant you a word of caution. While I know of this gift and Professor Snape has the inkling, it’s best not to let others know. Terrible things can happen of those that know the future. People could use you, Harry, hurt you through your gift. So, it’s best to keep it between the two of us, yes?”

Harry nodded, his mind swimming with thoughts. If just touching Professor Snape had put Harry into his memories, he was afraid to imagine what would happen if someone was trying to use their magic through him; and he prayed he never found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updates, i recently entered a new job and between that and Christmas i am very busy. But i will try to update more regularly. Thank you for being patient with me.

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea actually came to me in a dream and so i decided to write it. I hope you guys like it, and if you do just click that pretty little 'kudo' button and that will tell me you like it. Thank you!


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